No Limits
by Laerkstrein
Summary: -Post-TDK- Having survived the Joker's attempts on their lives, Harvey and Rachel are due to be married. Bruce feels betrayed by their union, Gordon is trying to clean up Gotham, and the Joker's "games" are literally being "blown out of proportion."
1. Marriage

**Disclaimer: **The characters used in this fic are property of DC Comics and are based on the characters from _The Dark Knight_. I own nothing but my plot and my characters.

**No Limits**

**Chapter 1: **Marriage

**A/N:**The idea for this fic just popped into my head the other day, so I figured I'd post it.

**IMPORTANT: **And for the readers of _Into The Abyss _and _Falling Into Madness: _I have _not _abandoned either of those fics. They _will _be updated as soon as I finish the next few chapters. I'm putting my all into making them fantastic for you, so please have patience.

**Music: **_Wasted Time _by_ Fuel_

* * *

She stood there at the door, regret in her eyes as she handed him a small white envelope. There was nothing written on the front, and it wasn't sealed, either. She simply stood there, waiting until he finally opened it before breaking eye contact with him. She grew tired of his hesitation, and she opened the card for him, pressing it into his hand.

He scanned the lettering, memorizing the text before he could blink. So this was what she wanted to tell him? He didn't understand. Or rather, He didn't _want _to understand.

"What's this about, Rachel?" he demanded, taking another look at the card.

She was fidgeting with a small stack of identical envelopes. Her voice was hesitant, even frightened as she said, "Bruce... We can't be together."

He made eye contact with her again, gripping her shoulders as gently as he could in his rattled state. This couldn't be happening.

Not now.

"What are you saying?" His voice was cold and infuriated, as were his ice blue eyes.

Rachel sighed and pulled away from Bruce's grasp. "Bruce... I'm going to marry Harvey Dent." She took the card from his hand and pointed to the text inside the card on the left side:

_Marriage of Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes._

"But, Rachel," he said, but she was already walking back to her car. Dropping the invitation, Bruce followed her to the car, swiping the keys from her before they reached the locked door.

"Bruce, give me the keys," she ordered, holding out her hand to receive them.

He tucked them in his pants' pocket, staring her down furiously. "Not until you explain this," he said. The sudden news had come as quite a shock to Bruce. Since the day that Rachel had told him they would be together when Batman was no longer needed, he had clung hopefully to those words, using them as his inspiration.

But now, in a matter of seconds, those feelings of hope and inspiration had been torn violently away from him. What did he have to hope for now?

"Give them to me, Bruce," Rachel repeated, taking a step towards him. She locked eyes with him, trying to intimidate him somehow. But her attempt failed miserably, and she was forced to admit defeat.

Rachel finally broke the silence between them. "Bruce, I know I told you that we'd be together, but... I don't think we can."

Bruce scowled. "Why?"

She sighed. Bruce Wayne, she thought, you are acting like a spoiled brat.

"Don't get an attitude with me, Bruce. I won't tolerate it. If you don't want to come to the wedding, then just say so. Don't make me explain my reasons for marriage to you. I don't have to! Do you understand? Now give me my keys!"

With a growl, Bruce held the keys out to Rachel, who snatched them furiously from his grasp. "I don't know why I even tried to break the news to you like this! I should have just mailed the stupid invitation and gone on with my life! But did I? No. I wanted to deliver it personally, hoping that you'd understand."

Rachel climbed into her car and started the engine, rolling down the window before she pulled away from the newly rebuilt Wayne Manor. "I guess I was wrong about you, Bruce. Goodbye."

--

"If I may ask, sir," Alfred said closing the door behind a troubled Bruce, "what was that about?"

Bruce trudged to his study—followed worriedly by Alfred—and leaned back into his chair, covering his face with his hands. The younger man's silent behavior was a clear indication to Alfred that things had not ended on a good note with Rachel.

"I've pushed her away, Alfred.... _again," _Bruce muttered, pulling his hands from his face and staring at the ceiling.

"Sir?"

A sigh. "She's... marrying Harvey Dent. The last thing I wanted to do was upset her, but... it just happened." His gaze met Alfred's. "I'm glad she's happy, but I just can't stand the thought of losing her to someone like Dent."

"With all due respect, Master Wayne, I didn't think Mr. Dent was all that bad," the butler replied.

"It's not that he's a bad person, Alfred... it's just that..."

"You're not in his place?" Alfred said, finishing Bruce's sentence.

He nodded. "Yeah. I... I guess that's why. She said she'd wait for me, Alfred. But now... now I've lost her."

The butler placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Well... I _did _bloody tell you."

--

Rachel was furious. What in God's name made Bruce even _think _that he could decide what she did and didn't do? Maybe she'd waited too long to tell him that she couldn't love him the way he loved her. Yes. That _had _to be it.

It's too late anyway, Rachel thought as she turned into the parking lot of the apartment complex. In one swift motion, Rachel removed the keys from the ignition, grabbed her purse, and stepped out of the car, slamming the door angrily behind her. Walking through the revolving doors, Rachel found herself musing about Bruce's insensitive, childish, and reckless behavior as she reached the elevator.

Who does he think he is? Bruce Almighty?!

Rachel suppressed a laugh. How pitifully ironic for her to think such a thing. But it certainly seemed, at times, that Bruce Wayne actually _believed _himself to be God. He expected her to drop what she was doing—her marriage to Harvey, in this instance—and do what _he_ wanted her to do—marry _him._

"Damn him," Rachel muttered, leaning against the elevator doors. "Bruce Wayne, you are the most self-centered, inconsiderate, pompous prick I've ever known! Ugh!! You make me so... _mad!!"_

The elevator doors suddenly opened, and Rachel fell forward into open arms. "What did I do now?"

Rachel looked up into Harvey's face, surprised—and amazed—to see him back from the office so early. "H- Harvey," she stammered, standing up. "It's only five o'clock! What are you doing back so soon? I thought you had a mountain of work to do."

Harvey grinned. "I did, but I decided it could wait." Taking her hand, Harvey led Rachel down the hall to the open door of their apartment. "I figured you'd much rather shoot your wedding plans at me than hover about waiting for me to finish paperwork."

"That I would," Rachel replied, closing the door behind them. She found her eyes suddenly covered as she was directed through the front room.

"Turn right."

"Harvey, I don't have time for this," Rachel pouted. But the hand remained over her eyes as she felt herself being seated on the couch. "I _really _don't have time for this, Harvey. I have an appointment with Commissioner Gordon at five-thirty!"

A laugh. "Actually," Harvey said, "I called and cancelled said appointment for you."

Rachel gasped. "Harvey! You didn't! That was a very important--"

"Don't worry. He was more than happy to reschedule," Harvey said, defending himself. After all, there were more important things to do than fret over a silly meeting. Meetings, after all, could be rescheduled. On the other hand, it was far more difficult to reschedule a wedding.

"You're sure? And you're not lying?" Suspicion began to creep into Rachel's mind.

Harvey removed his hand from her eyes and sat beside her. "I swear. Besides, this next week will be one of the highlights of our lives, Rachel. We can't have anything interrupting it, can we?"

Damn, Rachel thought. He's won.

"I guess you're right," she consented, leaning on his shoulder.

"So tell me," he said. "Who were you ranting about as you came out of the elevator?" His tone was light, as if he were enjoying a good comedy. "It wasn't me, was it?" he asked, feigning concern.

Rachel laughed. "No, it wasn't you. It was... Bruce Wayne."

His face hardened. "Wayne? Rachel, I thought you were going to tell him about us."

"I did. I simply went to the Manor to deliver the invitation."

"And did you?"

Rachel sighed. "Yes. But it didn't turn out as well as I had hoped. Bruce didn't seem to understand why I was giving him the invitation. I don't even think he knew it was an invitation until I opened it for him."

"That's where you made the mistake, Rachel," Harvey pointed out. "You should have just left it with him and come home."

"Yes, I know that now," she snapped, sending a death glare his way. "He read it, and started demanding why I was getting married. I told him, and he brought up the whole 'you said we'd be together' bit. That's when I got fed up with his childish behavior and tried to leave."

"You 'tried' to leave?"

A nod. "Yeah. He took my keys when I got out to the car. I told him I'd never speak to him again if he didn't give them back. And that's it. Nothing else happened. I gave him the invitation, told him off, and left."

Harvey grinned. "Good. I know he's your friend, Rachel, but Wayne really needs to learn when to back the hell off. He doesn't have the right to be so selfish just because he's a multi-billionaire. The guy doesn't have any excuse for behaving that way."

"I know. Now, let's get started planning the rest of this thing. For you... it's going to be nothing shy of _perfect."_

* * *

Whee! I just got the random idea to write this, so I did. Hope you enjoyed it.


	2. Born of Chaos

**Disclaimer: **The characters used in this fic are property of DC Comics and are based on the characters from _The Dark Knight_. I own absolutely nothing but my plot and my original characters.

**Chapter 2: **Born of Chaos

**A/N: **Chapter 2! I don't know what else to say, except: I'm freezing! I go outside, and I'm knee deep in snow! WTF?! Anyway, enjoy! :D (For the record: this is probably one of the most descriptive chapters I've ever written.)

**Music: **_The Curse _by _Disturbed_

* * *

How people survived the pits of hell known as "solitary confinement" and "therapy" was completely and utterly beyond his comprehension. Not that he _wanted _to understand in the first place. It had been said that solitary and therapy were "good" for criminals and lunatics; that it was a safe and nonviolent way for them to express themselves.

Bull. Shit.

Solitary confinement had been a real _bitch. _And therapy hadn't been the "haven" that it had been cracked up to be. Guards, handcuffs, cameras, frequent searches for drugs and weapons, and a five month absence from the streets of Gotham had _not_ been part of the agenda.

But five months hadn't been nearly enough time for the whole of Gotham to rebuild itself after a few weeks of chaos. It had been a bloody miracle that he had succeeded in restraining himself from destroying the city three years earlier.

Skulking around in the Underworld, building connections, seeking recruits, all the while busying himself with the preparations for the inevitable genocide that he would unleash upon Gotham. It hadn't taken much more than a couple of bullets and a few drums of gasoline to send Gotham into disarray.

One of his few success stories since announcing his arrival in Gotham.

In the beginning, there had been no ulterior motive to demolish Gotham. If a certain bat hadn't caught his eye in the paper, he would have just passed through to collect on a few debts that had to be paid. It seemed that there was only one rule that applied to all of humanity: It only tookone horrific and irreversible event to drive a man over the edge into madness and chaos.

After all: "Madness is like gravity. All it takes is a little push!" He knew that better than anyone.

His most disconcerting failure had been turning Harvey Dent against the city he was so dearly devoted to. Dent had been meant to be a lesson in how easily the pathetic façade of morality could be stripped down to nothing. He had truly believed that he had pushed Harvey to his limit, and he would have, if Gotham's Dark Knight and the do-gooder Jim Gordon hadn't foiled his game with Rachel.

As for Batman, well, he certainly seemed to be the fucking exception to that rule, having adopted some profound form of invincibility to the ties that bound all men. To madness. There had to be some way to get around the bat's rock-solid resolution. He _knew _there was a way. He just hadn't _found _it yet.

If one found a way to get into the mind of another, one would see that said other wasn't as high-and-mighty as he imagined himself to be. His capture at Prewitt Building had been a massive setback. After all the effort he had put into the operation, Batman had _still _refused kill him, claiming that the people of Gotham were—deep down—"ready to believe in good."

He had been left as an easy target for the SWAT team and GCPD, only to be dragged off to Arkham Asylum, forced to waste precious time in the dark confines of a cell. And all because of some stubborn fool in a bat suit who wouldn't break his "one rule." But there was a way to break through that façade.

He just had to _push _things over the edge. Create mayhem. Reveal to Gotham's denizens the _true _face of chaos and anarchy, and show them that their world was utterly futile and devoid of any significant meaning. But more than that, he would prove that Batman wasn't as incorruptible as he claimed to be.

The world thrives on chaos, he thought. Because it was _born of chaos... _

--

"Unbelievable."

It was just as he feared. Things had, once again, turned for the worst. He found himself glued to that morning's issue of The Gotham Times. The headline practically jumping off the paper to smack him in the face as he read: 'Joker seen in downtown Gotham; Batman nowhere to be found.' Once again, that all-too-familiar feeling of dread took over.

Great, he thought. Just great.

"Jim, honey, are you out here?"

Jim Gordon turned and glanced up the driveway to the open front door where his wife, Barbara, stood with their children, who were dressed and carrying their backpacks. As much as he wanted to, Jim couldn't focus on his family at the moment. If the Joker was back on the streets of Gotham, then Jim's highest priority was to keep the psychopath as far from innocent people as possible.

"Jim!"

"Hmm?"

"James Gordon, did you hear a word I just said?" Barbara demanded, placing her hands on her hips and staring at her husband with a irritated look. Barbara had been a little stressed from organizing and unpacking their home since moving from their apartment into a cozy little house in a quiet little suburb on the East Side of Gotham.

He sighed. "No, dear. I'm sorry."

"It's already eight-fifteen. The kids are going to be late for school. Hurry up," Barbara said, sounding rather flustered as she handed the children their lunch bags and gave them each a tight hug and a kiss.

Gordon nodded as the children ran across the front lawn. "Alright, kids. Get in the car." As their father unlocked the doors, Jimmy and little Barbara clambered into the car, squabbling over who got to sit in the front seat.

"Both of you," Barbara pointed to the kids, "will sit in the back seat. And don't forget that I have an appointment today, so you'll have to pick them up at three, Jim," she reminded her husband as he unlocked the driver's side door.

"Yes, dear," he replied, leaning out the window to kiss his wife. "I'll remember, I promise."

Barbara waved to the kids as Jim backed the vehicle out of the driveway and turned down the street. Thanks to Barbara, the squabbling for the front seat had ceased, but now the kids were arguing over which lunch bag belonged to who. Jim knew he should say something to the kids, but he didn't have the energy to deal with them at the moment.

Jim dropped the kids off at school before, reluctantly, driving through the godawful traffic to get to Major Crimes. The last thing he wanted, was to hear reporters having panic-attacks over the Joker's reappearance. He prayed to whatever God there was, that nobody else would have noticed the headline. But, as expected, the moment Jim stepped out of the car, he was swarmed by reporters.

After ten minutes of being trapped within the tight circle of cameras and microphones, Gordon pushed his way through the crowd and walked solemnly into MCU, giving the officers at the door orders not to let anyone inside the building without a badge.

Feeling less cheerful than before, Jim trudged down the hall to the holding cells where several mobsters were kept under constant supervision. Glancing at the nearest cell, the memories of the Joker's attempts on the lives of Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes flooded back. That night, Jim had been so sure that he had put an end to the madman's anarchistic hold on Gotham, only to have the lunatic escape.

He could still see the man sitting there in that cell, watching him with dark, soulless eyes. Despite having rescued Rachel from being blown to pieces, Jim had been so ashamed when he learned of the Joker's escape from MCU. Truly, the only way to stop such a man was to kill him. Not even Gotham's Dark Knight had been able to bring himself to finish the job.

Walking into the elevator, he hit the button for the ninth floor, and began to seriously consider things he had never imagined. He suddenly remembered the thoughts that raced through his head as he had sat across from the deranged lunatic in the interrogation room. The realization had crossed his mind that the Joker held the mental capabilities of some sort of crazed genius. Every movement, every operation, every word seemed to have been tactically set into its designated place. It was strange, realizing that some misguided psychopath could very well be the only man in Gotham with a truly rational understanding of the world and its inhabitants.

Remembering where he was and what he was supossed to be doing, Gordon's thoughts dissipated as he returned himself to the present moment as the elevator doors slid open. Heading for the fourth door on the right, Jim pulled the key to his office from his pocket. The door clicked open, and Gordon slid inside, closing the door quietly.

Allowing himself to fall back into his chair, Jim closed his eyes and wondered what the hell he was supossed to do to keep a psychotic terrorist from once again haunting the entirety of Gotham.

"It's best not to think about it," he muttered to himself. "I'll end up digging my own grave if I keep thinking about all the damage that son of a bitch could do. Ugh, what the hell does he think this is? Some sort of joke?!"

A sharp _crack _sounded from the office window. Gordon spun around in his chair to see that the blade of a knife had been buried in the glass up to the handle. The backside of a playing card facing Gordon. Unlocking the window, Gordon pulled the weapon from the glass, sending the card fluttering, face-up, to the floor.

As expected, it was a joker. And scrawled in dark letters across the card was the answer to Gordon's previous question:

_Some jokes aren't meant to be funny._

* * *

At long last, I'm finished with this chapter. [fireworks] Hope you enjoyed, please don't mind the fact that I'm kinda antisocial at the moment, and please review.


	3. If It Makes You Happy

**Disclaimer: **The characters used in this fic are property of DC Comics and are based on the characters from _The Dark Knight_. I own absolutely nothing but my plot and my original characters.

**Chapter 3: **If It Makes You Happy

**A/N: **Dun da dun.. DUN! Chapter 3!! :D I am thrilled that this fic is getting reviews, because I didn't really think it would. XD At first, I posted it for my own twisted amusement, but I'm enthralled that my readers/reviewers are getting as much twisted pleasure out of it as I am (if not more).

So now I have more than one reason to update!! :D Ha ha ha!!! Numero uno: To enjoy myself as I steadily drift further into the abyss of insanity; Numero dos (the important numero): To thrill and further disrupt the minds of my fabulous readers while assisting them in their endeavors to reach out to Heath's insane character on a strictly chaotic level. XD MelissaLianne and MK08, thank you for reviewing! I love you guys!! :D

**Music: **_Kiss Me Good-Bye _by _Alice Aki_

* * *

Bruce sighed, as he searched his cell phone for any messages or calls from Rachel. "Maybe I was a little too hard on her, Alfred." _Maybe _was a bit of an understatement. He had known better. He had just allowed his feelings—primarily his hurt and frustration—to get the better of him.

"Well, Master Wayne," the butler said matter-of-factly, "you _did_ attempt to stop Ms. Dawes from leaving and getting married, so I wouldn't be too surprised that she hasn't responded to any of your calls or messages within the past week."

A groan came from the great room as Bruce slumped wearily into a chair. "God, what have I done? How could I have been so... so..."

"Shallow?" Alfred suggested with a slight grin, handing Bruce the morning paper.

Bruce shot him a dirty look and growled. "Yes, Alfred. How could I have been so _shallow?" _His voice dripped with sarcasm as he unfolded The Gotham Times.

Almost as quickly as one could blink, Bruce was on his feet, staring incredulously at the front page. 'Joker Sighted In Downtown Gotham.' The last thing he wanted was to miss out on Rachel's wedding—assuming he was still invited—to keep the Joker away from killing more innocent civilians.

The man truly had the worst possible timing. The first time, he had just come out of the blue, devastating Gotham when—more than ever—it needed to have a hero with a face. And what had he tried to pull? The psychotic bastard had set himself up in MCU and attempted to blow Harvey and Rachel to Hell!

Unbelievable, Bruce told himself. This... this can't be happening! No!! God... why him? And why now? Why now?! "Damn!!"

"Something the matter, Master Wayne?" Alfred, who had gone to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee, immediately returned to the great room, carrying the steaming pot of coffee in one hand, and a thick novel in the other.

Bruce was deeply tempted to snatch the coffee pot and smash it against the marble floor, just to release some of his frustration. Noting the blind fury in the younger man's eyes, Alfred slowly backed away, hiding the pot of black coffee behind his back, just to be safe. The last thing they both needed was to have steaming coffee all over the floor, furniture, and their clothing.

"He's back, Alfred!" Bruce snatched the paper from the floor, and jabbed his finger at the headline. "Look. 'Joker Sighted In Downtown Gotham'!! For God's sake, Alfred! Does he _ever _give up?!" He couldn't take it. It was just too much pressure. Rachel was dead-set on marrying Harvey Dent, and now the Joker had to show up in Gotham to, once again, make a point that Batman wasn't "incorruptible."

"It certainly seems that he has some sort of desire, seeing that he always comes back," Alfred said, knowingly stating the obvious. Bruce stared at Alfred for a moment. "With all due respect, Master Wayne, this man seems to have a sick motive and an unhealthy obsession—if you wish to refer to it as so."

"Sick motive?"

It made enough sense. The Joker wouldn't leave Gotham until one of two things had been accomplished: Batman had been corrupted, or Gotham burned. Whichever came first. As Alfred had suggested, it was a truly sickening thought. But the Joker wasn't the only one with a distorted view of reality. Bruce had to admit that, he too, had a bit of an unhealthy obsession. He had allowed himself to speak the words only once, three years earlier: "There is something out there in the darkness. Something terrifying, something that will not stop until it has revenge... Me."

He couldn't deny the truth. He had never been one to quietly allow his loved ones to suffer without administering his own judgement upon those who seeked to harm them. It had been a painful struggle to allow his parents' murderer to walk away, even if he had already atoned for his sin.

But Rachel... Rachel was a different story altogether. He _loved _her. He loved her in a way that he couldn't have loved his parents. And she had told him, promised him that they would be together when the world no longer needed Batman. And now, just when he had been willing to give it up, she had gone for another. For Harvey Dent.

"Perhaps you should call again, sir," Alfred suggested.

Bruce scowled. "Alfred, I've called all week and she hasn't answered once. What in God's name has led you to believe that she'd talk to me now?"

The butler grinned. "Well, Ms. Dawes might not respond to _your _calls, but there's a good chance that she will respond to _mine." _Alfred reached into his front pocket and withdrew his cell phone, offering it to Bruce with a smile.

Accepting the phone, Bruce shrugged. "Well, I'll try anything once."

**--**

"Who is it _this _time?!" Rachel demanded sarcastically.

How many times was Bruce going to call?! Within the last week, she had received twenty-seven voice mails, fifty-three emails, forty-four text messaged, and at least ninety-six phone calls from Bruce alone. Not only was he running up her phone bill, he was pissing her off.

But Rachel had had enough of Bruce constantly pestering her, and was determined to put her foot down and tell him to stop calling, and to come to the damned wedding if he was so desperate to talk to her.

"I've had it!!" Rachel shrieked. "I am not gonna put up with his crap anymore! I have too much to do, and I am not going to let the 'Prince of Gotham' ruin my wedding with his constant phone calls!!" Rachel furiously rushed toward the door of the bedroom to grab her cell phone that she had left with her purse on the kitchen table.

Rachel's college roommate, Dianne Whitford, had come to Gotham from New Jersey for Rachel's wedding, and at the moment, the poor woman was having a terrible time trying to get Rachel to hold still so she could pin up her hair.

"Rachel!" Dianne flew to the floor, grabbing Rachel's ankles. "You _cannot _go out there yet!! Harvey probably hasn't left the apartment yet, and it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress _before _the wedding!!"

"Well, I need my phone!!" Rachel shot back, dragging a flustered Dianne across the floor.

Dianne leapt up and blocked Rachel's path. "No! You are not going out there! Do you hear me?! Do you want everything to be ruined?!"

Dianne's right, Rachel told herself. I want Harvey to be surprised when he sees me, but... "All right," Rachel sighed, carefully removing the dress. Dianne stared. "I'll stay. But you have to go get my phone for me. And if Harvey asks, tell him that I'll meet him at the church."

With a quick nodd, Dianne rushed out the bedroom door, closing it swiftly behind her. And, as expected, Harvey stood in the living room dressed in his suit with a glass of scotch in one hand.

"What in God's name are you doing, Dianne? I thought you were helping Rachel get ready."

Dianne froze. "I- I am," she stammered, making her way to the kitchen table. "I'm just... I mean... Rachel needs her phone, so I... You can't see her before the wedding!! It's bad luck!! She'll meet you at the church!"

Harvey stared. "Okay, then..." He seemed a little frightened by Dianne's sudden outburst, and moved slowly to the apartment door. "I... guess I'll see you there," he said, stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind himself.

"Damn," Dianne muttered, grabbing Rachel's phone from the table. "I'm an idiot..."

Rachel opened the door and poked her head out. "Dianne? What happened? Is Harvey okay?"

Dianne handed Rachel the phone and nodded. "Yeah, he's fine. I came out to get the phone, and I just... I think I might have scared him a bit... I thought he was gonna try to get a peek at you in your dress, so I... kind of overreacted."

"Oh, don't worry about him," Rachel said with a smile. "He'll forget about it when he sees me. Now come on, help me get out of the rest of this dre— Aaaaaaaaaaah!!"

In unison, Rachel and Dianne screamed as the phone suddenly rang.

"Oh, my God!" Dianne leaned against the kitchen counter, handing the phone to Rachel.

Expecting the caller to be Bruce, Rachel glared at the caller ID, but gasped when she read the name: Alfred. She hurriedly flipped the phone open and held it to her ear. "Hello?"

"R- Rachel...?"

Wait. She knew that voice. "Oh, it's you. What do you want?" she snarled into the phone. He had some nerve using Alfred's phone to call her. He must have known that she'd answer Alfred's calls.

A pause. "Rachel, I'm.... I just wanted to say..."

She rolled her eyes. "Look, Bruce. I don't have time for this. I have to be at the church and in my dress in forty-five minutes, so make it fast."

He sighed. "I'm... sorry."

"I told you, I don't have ti-- What? What did you say?"

"I'm sorry for my behavior, Rachel. I was—" Rachel heard Bruce grunt as something, or someone, must have elbowed him. "I was inconsiderate and... shallow. And you have every right to.... marry Harvey," he choked, "if that's what makes you happy."

She couldn't believe it. He had actually called to _apologize. _"Bruce?"

He was silent.

"Bruce, answer me," she said.

"What?"

Rachel smiled. "If I walk down the aisle and you and Alfred aren't there, I will personally break into Wayne Manor and strangle you in your sleep. Understand?"

"Uh..."

She heard something in the background rustle as someone took the phone from Bruce. "I will see to it myself that Master Wayne arrives in time for your wedding, Ms. Dawes," Alfred said cheerfully.

"Thank you, Alfred," Rachel said, hanging up.

Dianne stared at her with wide eyes. "Well?" she demanded. "What happened? Tell me!!"

Rachel laughed. She loved Dianne to death, but she was sometimes overbearing and had the tendency to behave like an excited high school girl.

"You'll know what happened when we get to the wedding," Rachel replied, dragging Dianne back into the bedroom. "But we need to get there first."

**--**

"I hate these things," Bruce muttered as he sat in one of the aisle seats, messing with his bow tie. "They're so..."

Alfred chuckled. "Annoying," the butler said, finishing Bruce's sentence. "Yes, I know, sir. But I'm sure that you can deal with it for a few hours, at least. You wouldn't want to disrupt Ms. Dawes' wedding because of a silly bow tie, now would you?"

Bruce grimaced. "Very funny, Al--" He was cut off when the organist began playing. The sound echoed through the chapel, and all heads turned from Harvey, who now stood at the altar, to the chapel doors, where the flower girls would be arriving, followed by the bride.

The flower girls skipped merrily down the aisle with their baskets of flower petals, as Rachel was escorted down the aisle by her father, Charles. Her mother sat beside Alfred, wiping at her eyes with a handkerchief as she watched her daughter join Harvey at the altar.

The vows were exchanged, and Bruce could only watch and try not to interrupt as Rachel and Harvey kissed. The room erupted in applause as Harvey escorted Rachel out the chapel doors. The crowd followed, congradulating the newly weds as they gathered outside the church.

Bruce dawdled inside the chapel, waiting for the crowd outside to die down before having his car brought to the front. The chapel doors opened, and Rachel ran down the aisle, catching Bruce in a tight hug.

"Thank you!! Thank you!! Thank you!!!" she cried.

He was stunned. "For what?"

"Alfred told me everything," Rachel said.

Bruce flinched. This couldn't be good. "What did he tell you?"

"Oh, don't play dumb, Bruce! You arranged for the afterparty to be held at the Manor! I can't believe it!! You're the best!" Rachel grabbed his hand and very nearly dragged him outside, where Alfred was holding the limousine door open.

This explains why Alfred insisted that I leave without him, Bruce thought, staring at the vehicle.

Rachel had arranged for her brother to drive Harvey's car before climbing into the limousine with Harvey. Alfred gave Bruce an apologetic smile as he neared the limousine.

"It's all right, Alfred. As long as nothing goes wrong, I'm okay with it," Bruce said, climbing in.

Alfred grinned. "Glad to hear it, sir."

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Ta-da!! :D I was going to include the afterparty in this chapter, but I think it's too long already. XD You'll have to wait for chapter 4. Thanks for reading!! Please review! :D And be sure to listen to the song for this chapter. It really fits!! :D


	4. Surprise

**Disclaimer: **The characters used in this fic are property of DC Comics and are based on the characters from _The Dark Knight_. I own absolutely nothing but my plot and my original characters.

**Chapter 4: **Surprise

**A/N: **I'm sorry I haven't updated. I know it's been almost three months, but sometimes everything gets in the way of the fun things in life. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! :D

**Music: **_Dance With The Devil _- _Breaking Benjamin_

* * *

How ironically amusing. The famous Bruce Wayne had lost his darling to the soon-to-be decrepit District Attorney. But soon enough, the Prince of Gotham wouldn't have any cause to worry about her. She would be gone, and the Batman would be alone and vulnerable.

Of course, the denizens of Gotham still believed that he was hiding out in Chicago. The fools. They had no idea that their worst fear was living among them, waiting for the opportune moment in which to strike.

But from a certain perspective, their foolishness was rather... sad. They put all their trust in a man who could barely handle his own probelms, let alone theirs. Especially when not in "uniform." It was all so disappointingly pathetic. They would never know exactly what had hit them until their precious city had been burned to the ground.

But did it really have to be the _city_ that burned? Well... yes. Yes, it _had _to be Gotham that burned. Was there really a _reason_ to burn the well-known metropolis to the ground? Not particularly. The city _would _burn, but only for a bit of personal _enjoyment._ Just for the hell of it, actually.

No. No, that wasn't entirely true. He sure as hell _wanted _to watch the pitiful denizens of the once great city scurry about like frightened ants, but that wasn't his true intention. He'd said it numerous times before, and he'd say it again and again, until Gotham understood the meaning he had tacked to it: "Why so serious?"

It wasn't rocket science or anything. Just a very simplistic way of looking at the world. They were just too damn serious about... everything. He knew how people were, and he knew what made them tick:

Money.

That's all it had ever been about. The governments claimed that raising taxes and such would help the people with this, that, and the other. But every word had been bullshit, and those damned government officials knew it. They exploited people's weaknesses and took advantage of them.

But he knew better. He knew how to put an end to the corrupt schemes of the mindless fools that dominated the majority of society. It wasn't hard at all. The only thing it took to bring them to their knees was a certain method of... _persuasion. _And said method would not only be the end of Gotham, but the end of Gotham's Dark Knight.

The end of Bruce Wayne.

--

The sleek vehicle wove through the streets with ease, but one of its passengers was far from putting his own mind to rest. Rachel and Harvey sat across from him in the limousine, their arms linked as they fawned over each other, discussing plans for their honeymoon.

In all honesty, just the thought of Rachel having a honeymoon with anyone else but himself made Bruce sick. But he'd have to learn to live with it. He'd adjust to this change of plans as he had done with several other instances in his life. It had been painfully obvious to Bruce how Rachel felt about Harvey since the first time he'd seen them together on the television screen in his "cave."

Although he stared out the window at the passing cars and buildings, he couldn't drown the echo of Rachel's voice in his head when she had learned that he had "planned the party for her." She had been so ecstatic, he didn't have the heart to tell her that the whole thing had been Alfred's idea.

Even if he had told her, she would have simply stated that he was "just being modest", and gone off to live the rest of her life with a man who wasn't Bruce. Either way, Bruce had lost. The only possible way that he could have had Rachel would have been to allow the Joker to kill Harvey.

No. No, that wouldn't have solved a damn thing. Rachel would be safe, but... but she would have hated Bruce for not making it to Harvey's side in time. But... why did he give a damn, anyway? She had chosen Harvey, and not even Batman could do a damn thing about it.

Being so immersed in his troublesome thoughts, Bruce failed to notice that Alfred had suddenly slammed on the brake, sending himself and the newlyweds tumbling to the floor of the limousine.

After a quick glance to ensure Rachel's safety, Bruce rolled down the window of the limousine's divider, and muttered, "What the hell was that, Alfred? You're not _trying _to kill me, are you?"

Normally, the cheery butler would have acknowledged Bruce's presence, but his eyes were fixated on the screaming crowd gathered on the front lawn of Wayne Manor. Dozens, if not hundreds, of reporters with microphones and cameras crowded around the vehicle, each trying to get a good shot of the newlywed District Attorneys.

Even amidst the swelling group, a rather large and ridiculous white banner with the words, "Congrats! The joke's on you, Rachel! You could have picked a 'better' man!" could be seen flying over the heads of the reporters. Bruce correctly assumed that the banner was a prank from Rachel's and Harvey's families. To make it worse, the banner was printed with a very recent photo of Harvey and Rachel's kiss at the church.

Bruce growled contemptuously. Things just kept getting worse. He'd already lost his woman to Gotham's DA, and now reporters and cheering friends and family members were gathering on the front lawn of _his _manor. Great. Just fucking great.

These people truly had the _worst _timing of anyone that he had ever met. They never knew when to just give up and walk away. If he really wanted to, he'd teach them a thing or two about manners and personal space, but doing so would only give the people of Gotham more reason to hate Batman.

As if he needed that now.

He placed a firm hand on Alfred's shoulder. "Just rev the engine, Alfred. They should get the picture."

With a short nod, the butler did as instructed, and, sure enough, several people in the crowd backed away. But there were still enough surrounding the vehicle to hinder its movement.

"Well, that worked out rather nicely, didn't it?" Alfred glanced back with a smug grin at the scowling Bruce. "Oh, don't worry. I wouldn't fret over it too much if I were you. There are three options: run them over, drive away in screaming terror, or have a picnic in the back seat. Your choice."

Bruce narrowed his gaze at the smirking butler. "Real funny, Alfred. I thought you actually had a _good _idea. One that doesn't involve living in a car or getting arrested for vehicular homicide."

"Well, now that you mention it, I do." The butler paused for a moment, the grin still on his face. "You _could_ call in a favor from your good friend Commissioner Gordon."

The younger man sighed, pulling his phone from his pocket. "Just keep it up, Alfred," he muttered as he dialed Gordon's number. "You'll get yours."

"If you say so," Alfred chuckled as Bruce put the phone to his ear.

--

The mere sight of that scrawled handwriting was enough to make his blood run cold. There was no way that the Joker could have overheard him... right? But if he hadn't been overheard, then... why would the knife have shown up right away? The reason was undeniably clear: The Joker was watching him.

"Oh, God..."

Scrambling beneath his desk, Jim grabbed his cell phone from his pocket, and began dialing the emergency number that Batman had given him. As his fingers directed the phone to his speed dial menu, it rang, and fell from Jim's trembling hands.

The phone continued to ring until Gordon fearfully lifted it from the floor, and pressed it to his ear. "H-Hello?"

"Commissioner Gordon?" the voice on the other end said in a hurry. "This is Bruce Wayne. I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm in dire need of your assistance."

Jim breathed a sigh of relief, for he had been expecting the caller to be the Joker. "Oh, Mr. Wayne," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you're saying. You need... _assistance?"_

"I know that the whole idea seems a little far-fetched, but I'm completely serious. You see, the after-party for the wedding of Rachel Dawes to Harvey Dent is supposed to be at the Manor, but..."

Gordon bit his lip. This conversation wasn't doing him much good. "Let me guess," he sighed. "The Joker's shown up, and you need someone to--"

Bruce laughed. "No, that's not it at all, Commissioner. We've been trapped in the limousine by a mob of reporters and cameramen, and I'm afraid we can't get them to move."

"I see... In that case, stay calm and lock yourselves in. I'll be there momentarily," Gordon said before hanging up.

Well, at least I won't be bored to death the _whole_ day...

--

"What did he say, sir?" Alfred inquired as the reporters began climbing on the hood of the vehicle.

Bruce sighed and threw the finger at the reporters before any cameramen could get the shot. "He said he'd be here momentarily, so we're supposed to endure this abuse until he-- Alfred, roll up the window!!" Several screaming reporters were forcing their arms through Alfred's slightly open window in an attempt to get to Bruce.

"Dear God!!" Alfred cried as he smacked several hands away with the snow scraper.

From behind the divider, through which Bruce had pushed his torso, Rachel grabbed hold of the back of Bruce's suit coat to get his attention. "Bruce? Bruce? Dammit, Bruce Wayne!! What's going on up there?!"

Harvey pulled her back into the seat as he rolled his eyes at Bruce's backside. "Forget it, Rachel. He's probably doing something stupid, or talking to Alfred."

"I don't think so, Harvey," Rachel said, glancing at the divider again. "If I know Bruce, and I do, then something must be wrong... especially if he's in two different parts of the vehicle at the same time."

As Rachel unbuckled her seatbelt again, Bruce fell backwards through the divider, only to land on the floor of the limousine.

"My God!! Are you alright, Bruce?! What happened?!"

Bruce sat up, pushing Rachel back into her seat. "Don't.... go up there..." he wheezed, staring through the divider.

Rachel crossed her arms and glared at him. "Bruce Thomas Wayne, if you don't tell me what's going on, I swear, I'll--"

A loud _thud_ sounded from outside, and, for a moment, the vehicle tipped, sending the passengers to the floor yet again. Finally deciding that he'd had enough, Harvey sat up and proceded to open the sun roof.

"Dent, what the hell are you doing?!"

With a furious glare, Harvey ignored him, and poked his head outside. "What the he--?!" Before Bruce could grab him, Harvey was pulled through the sun roof, and into the crowd outside.

"Harvey!!" Rachel screamed as she followed his lead.

Bruce furiously closed the sun roof, and poked his head through the divider again. "Alfred!! What the hell is going--"

To his dismay, it was not Alfred who sat behind the wheel, but the Joker.

"Well, it's been a long time..." the Joker grabbed Bruce by the throat, holding that wretched knife in his face. _"Bat_man..."

Bruce squirmed, but was unable to free himself from the monstrous grip. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

The Joker feigned uncertainty for a moment. "Well... Let me answer that in a way that you'll understand: 'There is something out there in the darkness. Something terrifying, something that will not stop until it gets revenge... _Me.'"_

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XD [evil laugh] I'm so glad I decided to update today! Hope you enjoyed!! Now... _review! _


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